


Fierce and true

by Lesserstorm



Category: Swan Lake (Bourne)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesserstorm/pseuds/Lesserstorm
Summary: The Flock wheels and circles in the air, always in motion, always turning again and again.
Relationships: Prince/Swan (Swan Lake - Bourne)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Fierce and true

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MercutioLives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercutioLives/gifts).



The Flock wheels and circles in the air, always in motion, always turning again and again. They move between each other and against each other in a never-ending dance.

They gather in the lonely places of the earth, they dwell in the moors and empty valleys, but they are present too at night where the human cities give way to deserted parkland and lakes. They feed on the need and the hunger of natural things, drawing energy from the scurrying that and the urban fox, the fear of the prey, the predator’s urge to feed.

The concerns of humans are too small to register, their minds too caught up in little things of their own making. Whether in the wilderness or human cities, the Flock still find things of earth to feed them, but human desires and longings are too mixed, too complex to be desirable food, human minds do not have the single-minded clarity that calls to the Flock.

Sometimes a human catches sight of them, a flash of white in the dark, a single white head and neck, mistakes them for the Swans which are their namesake. Or from a distance a child glimpses their power and vigour as they move ever restless and thinks they are birds fighting. But human eyes are not meant to grasp their essence. The mortal animals of earth know better and keep a wary distance. There is no clear human word for what the Flock are, but it is clear what they are not – not mortal, not of this world, not part of life on earth.

\--------

The Flock wheels and circles in the air, always in motion, always turning again and again. Their leader is the Swan and they are the Swans. What need have they for individual names? They are the Flock, they each take their place in reference to each other, the leader is the Swan and each of the Flock is a Swan and they recognise their place in the flight.

The Swan turns the direction of the Flock and they move against each other in power and strength. It is night and they move in the darkness, strengthened by the screech of an owl and the cold light of the moon. Their dance is fierce and wild and utterly uncompromising. There is no space for error, one wing out of place and they would clash and fall from the sky. But they are the Swans and they know themselves and none of them fall.

Tonight they move over a silent lake. The ducks are sleeping and if they shudder in their sleep at the passing of the Flock, every instinct says “stay safe” and “do not wake”. Even the fish, below the surface of the water, are still while the Flock’s unearthly power moves above. Not a creature stirs, save one human whose heart cries out with anguish pure enough to reach the Flock.

The Swan draws closer, almost unconsciously, his Flock following behind him. The young man’s mind is caught in despair and the Swan is drawn to it, tasting the pain and the fear as he circles him, drawing sustenance from it as the Flock follow in circles.

Human minds, even those in agony are generally too muffled to draw the Swans, not single-minded enough of purpose. But this young man, this human Prince, has the sharp clarity of despair and under it a yearning, deep and vivid, that draws the Swan.

The Prince is staring blindly at the lake, but as the Flock approaches, his gaze turns to follow them. Human eyes rarely see the Swans, but this young man does and his yearning heart longs for them.

The Flock wheels and circles around the human Prince, pressing against this interloper, this mortal who dares see them. But the Swan is caught, his attention focused on the longing of the Prince’s heart and the Prince reaches out, towards the Swan’s wings, the curve of his neck, the swiftness of his spirit. That should not be possible, but his longing is great enough that he sees the Swan and the Swan in turn reaches back, drawing the Prince into the movement of the Flock.

This is a new kind of dance. Not the known movements of his fellow Swans whose turmoil is predictable and whose identity is fixed only in relation to each other, but a dance where the Swan draws and the Prince follows. The Swan flies and the Prince reaches towards from the ground, the Swans move as the Flock and the Prince’s longing spurs him into their dance, always circling focusing, falling back towards his own Swan.

They move as the Flock does, in motion through the night, but tonight the Swan is more than the leader of the other Swans’ dance, more than the pinnacle of the Flock, he is focused on his young Prince, a complement to his passion, a partner to his flight, a hungry soul meeting his fierce mind.

The Flock rises from the lake and fades away in the dawn, but the Swan carries with him the beat of the Prince’s heart and his own spirit beats in unison and joy, saying “mine, mine, mine.”

\--------

The Flock wheels and circles in the air, vivid in motion, turning again and again, but the Swan’s focus is on his Prince.

The Prince is surrounded tonight by other human minds and the Swan cannot reach him through their foggy confusion. They gather together and their mass of petty ambitions and selfish jealousies cloud the Swan’s ability to reach the one soul that is his. But he can tell that his Prince is unhappy, that that one true soul, vivid as the north star, is as out of place in the human world as the Swan himself would be.

The Swan’s heart yearns towards his partner, but the very humanity of tonight’s party bars him from entry and he sees his Prince only at a distance, he is unable to reach out, in comfort or in passion or to draw the Prince into soaring flight together. He can only watch and feel, while the Prince’s distress grows, while his Flock moves uneasily around him, not understanding why their leader’s purpose is no longer one with theirs.

The Prince’s thoughts are muddled now, there are other ties that bind him to humans around him, his own desire for affection, for love, other people’s desire – not for him, but for what he could do for them or what they want him to be. The Swan rebels against the thought of it, beating his wings futilely against the ways of the human world, against the Flock falling away from unity with him, the Flock who yearn only for wild and empty places while the Swan yearns for his Prince.

Then the night abruptly ends, in pain and fear and the Swan cannot reach or sense his Prince’s soul at all.

\--------

The Flock wheels and circles in the air, always in motion, always turning again and again. They move between each other and against each other, but their dance is frantic, their unity fractured. The Swan himself searches only for his Prince, a faint heartbeat, a faintly shining soul fading in and out and nearly extinguished.

The other Swans reach for him, beat at him. Their leader has betrayed them, abandoned their flight to seek a dance with a single partner. He is still the Swan and they are still the Swans, but they are no longer the same, no longer united. He is an interloper, no longer Flock, he brought an outsider into their midst and still now seeks that outsider. Their wings and their beaks move in a frenzy of pain and distrust. He has no flesh for them to rip apart but they can tear at his spirit, his soul, his ability to fly, to balance motion and power, even his ability to be Swan.

Still, the Swan has no mind for them. He is focused only on that faint heartbeat, the pulse of that spirit. Even as his strength and his power are torn away he reaches for his Prince, drawn as to a homing beacon, diving straight and true to the human room where his beloved lies.

He folds himself around his Prince, body and spirit, passion and strength. The young man is weakened now and it is only as he embraces him that he realises that he has brought the Flock, following after him, fierce and uncompromising, merciless in the need to destroy the outsider who has broken their bonds.

The Flock is wild and furious now, tearing indiscriminately at the Swan and the Prince - and the Swan himself is weakened. He was their leader, the most powerful of them all, but his strength and his soul are now tied up with a mortal mind and a fading mortal body. Even at his strongest he could not have triumphed against his entire Flock. Now all he can do is cling to the young man he loves as his own Swans destroy everything that he has ever been.

\--------

Afterwards, he Flock wheels and circles in the air, always in motion, always turning again and again. They have a new leader now, the dance passing seamlessly from one to another, no space remaining to show that another Swan once fell from their flight.

Yet in another place, the Swan holds his Prince in his arms. He has endured and the Prince is protected. He was once the Swan of Swans, does not know what or who he can be if he no longer exists in relation to the Flock. But he is with his beloved. Their flickering spirits strengthen each other in silence and stillness. He does not yet know what they will be, whether they will dance again together or become something entirely new. But their hearts beat in unison and they are each still fierce, still true. There will be a new purpose for them to meet as one.


End file.
